Bottled and enchanted

Robed spots of galaxies and peacock purple

What use does your name provide for my life’s purpose?

Enchanted and unbound

Sage of another nurture

Your epithet is the sword

Through which many have come to abhor

Beautiful and sparkling nonsense

Be banished to the outskirts of human conscience

Obtain the key to self-belonging

Ere you find nothing ‘fore the throne of abyssal torment

Pinnacles hold the stage for the bright moon as the rocks cast a shadow upon the shore. The salty waves caress the sand —warm still— on which I sit. The invisible flute rattles the fiend in me who dares to feel, bidding me to relive a romance buried in the dunes of a far away land. But what fate does this love hold for one such as I? The snake charmer portends the essence suppressed by ages of dense life. The sleeping sorrow dreams reveries of blood and daylight, yet the observer holds no memory of that which came to pass.